Why

I don’t know! who, when, why… I move from place to place, thought to thought, and still ask why. I dress the world in borrowed colors, lay a shimmer on the sky, give structure to the reason, yet I’m always left to pry. I don’t know… So I sweep the heavens with a pen, build a kingdom in my mind, walls of men, hearts that bend, yet somehow still I bind. Lift me from the sigh I keep swallowing, where thought strikes hard against the frame. I rise with everything I’ve carried, raw, untamed, untouched by any name. And if the night demands an answer, I’ll speak with fire rooted in my pain. A vow cut clean through old remembrance: I’ll burn my path beyond its claim. I don’t know! who, when, why… I stitch myself into the fabric of time, and still ask why. Call myself a constant thread, though even now I fail to mend. I dodge the fate I fabricate, yet chase it to the end. I don’t know who I heard a voice inside the quiet, its hidden face we name as sin. Yet holding it made something whole; he stands there still, beneath my skin Lift me from the sigh I keep swallowing, where thought strikes hard against the frame. I rise with everything I’ve carried, raw, untamed, untouched by any name. And if the night demands an answer, I’ll speak with fire rooted in my pain. A vow cut clean through old remembrance: I’ll burn my path beyond its claim. I don’t know who, when, why… Yeah I’ve been pacing through the wreckage of the man I couldn’t be, charting star-lines through the ruins of forgotten prophecy. Told myself the mirror lies, but truth won’t bargain, won’t concede; it etches scripture into marrow, turns your sorrow into creed. I’ve been wrestling with the quiet that my heartbeat disobeys, carrying weight like ancient dust pulled through a hundred dying days. But I learned that shattered empires still beat rhythm through their blaze I’m the hymn beneath the rubble, I’m the spark inside the phrase. So I rise from all that static with a pulse that never tires; turn my fractures into cadence, let them kindle all my fires. If my road is built on questions, let them push me climbing higher, for a life untouched by searching is a choir without desire. Lift me from the sigh I keep swallowing, where thought strikes hard against the frame. I rise with everything I’ve carried, raw, untamed, untouched by any name. And if the night demands an answer, I’ll speak with fire rooted in my pain. A vow cut clean through old remembrance: I’ll burn my path beyond its claim.